


Lynx - Recollection

by Nicola Mody (Vilakins)



Series: Lynx [4]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Drama, Gen, Post Gauda Prime, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilakins/pseuds/Nicola%20Mody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew combine to recover Soolin's mutoid sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lynx - Recollection

**Author's Note:**

> Part 4. I've finished the first four parts, each of which end at a satisfying place. One more part will continue and finish the story.

  


**On memory and mutoids**

****"We know Ilka's a mutoid, and we know her ID number," Soolin said. "It should be easy for Orac to find out where she is."

"Yes." Avon remained in his chair opposite, looking at her. "And then?"

"Then we'd go and get her, of course."

"And then?"

"What d'you mean—" Vila began angrily.

"No." Soolin touched his arm. "Avon's right. We have to think it through." She looked at Avon. "All right. First we'd have to find a serum supply or some way of making it."

"It still wouldn't be your sister."

"It could be, though. Vila said the memories would still be there, just not accessible."

Avon raised his eyebrows. "And Vila of course is such an expert."

"I am, actually. After all, they've tried to reprogram me, and I never let them."

"Reprogram, not wipe your memory. And besides, you're hardly an average case, are you."

"No, but Blake—" Vila paused, but it was too late. Avon just looked a _bit_ icy though, so he forged on. "Blake got his memories back. They're all still there, you know. Brain surgeons can trigger them, like pieces of music or a scene, or things like that, just by touching different bits. They can't wipe them, they just wall them off."

"Blake," Avon said, speaking deliberately as if to show that he could, "eventually remembered things that mattered to him. Mutoids however have their emotions deadened, so they would have no desire or drive to remember anything of their former selves. They are in fact very much biological machines."

Vila looked quickly at Soolin, who was sitting still with her face calm and closed-in. Her hands however were curled into tight fists. Vila put his hand over one. "Could you leave a brother or sister like that, Avon?"

Avon winced very slightly. "Yes. It would be kinder."

"To you, you mean?"

"Of course. He—the mutoid—wouldn't care."

"Yes, but what if you could reverse the process."

"Don't be ridiculous, Vila."

"I'm not. Look, it seems to me that the Federation might want some sort of out. I mean, what if they wanted to get the person back, or get their memories back? Some mutoids are people being punished, but you know a lot aren't. You know, 'Join the Mutoid Corps and Forget'. Very romantic, that is."

"Vila!"

"Well, it is to some, Soolin. Like that Keera Landradi, you know, the actor. Career going downhill, a few lines starting to appear, her lover leaving her, so she makes the grand gesture. People like that, they'd like to know there was a chance of getting it all back."

Avon looked thoughtful. "As hard as I find to admit it, you could have a point. I shall see what Orac can find out."

 

"I'm surprised he agreed to help," Soolin said after Avon had left, "even though it looks as if you two are back to the way you were when I first met you."

"I just had to admit I'm as big a bastard as he is, in my own way." Vila leaned back and put his arm over Soolin's shoulder.

She smiled and took his dangling hand. "I hope not."

"I suppose," said Vila, "it's a bit of a challenge for him." Perhaps it would help Avon take his mind off things. He frowned, remembering. "Did you see his face when I asked him what he'd do if it was his brother? Not that I can even imagine him having _parents_."

"I can see his point though, not wanting to see someone he knew changed into something else. But I just can't leave her like that." Soolin was silent for a moment. "Vila? Tell me about mutoids."

"I don't know that much about them, just what's common knowledge."

"To a Federation citizen, perhaps," Soolin said dryly.

"Oh, right. Well, they're enhanced, like Travis's arm, to be stronger and faster, but apparently they need that serum they drink to make that work, don't really know the details. Maybe it's digested more efficiently. And people say they blank them, wipe their memories, but they couldn't really. If you did that, you wouldn't have a working brain left; I mean you need language and all that. So they just... stop personal stuff being accessed, I suppose. Avon's not right about them having no emotions, though. They wouldn't do anything if that was true."

"What do you mean?"

"I've known people who were reprogrammed. Didn't take on me, but it usually does. They make you not want to do the things you used to, not steal or rebel or whatever, and that means something's gone from that person. Something that made them _them_. Sometimes it's not that big a part and they can still do stuff, work and suchlike, but there's a spark missing. Not always a bad thing in really nasty cases, but you see, if they took away all emotion and drive like Avon said, they wouldn't have a reason to do anything at all. I've seen that. People who just sit there and look at nothing much and have to be made to eat."

"Oh, Vila." Soolin squeezed his hand.

"It's all right. I mean, it wasn't, but I'm glad I didn't know them well." Vila wished he hadn't said that; it sounded so callous. And it was, really. You had to be hard to stay afloat in the Federation. He went on quickly. "So they must give mutoids something to make them good officers and soldiers, and they are. Maybe it's pride in what they are."

"Really?" Soolin sat up and looked at him. "That's... something, anyway."

"And Ilka, she's not a bond slave or anything like that. She's an officer, with officer's rights and all. Not a bad life really, compared to some."

"Not compared to who she was."

* * *

  
Tarrant was on the flight deck of his and Avon's ship, the _Lactic Class_, which he had resentfully named for all the low-importance 'milk runs' Avalon had assigned them. He had a book reader on his lap, and his long legs up on his console.

"Another one of your tunic-rippers?" said Avon, using Vila's term for them.

Tarrant snapped it shut. "Have we got an assignment?"

"Not as such." Avon crossed to Orac and picked it up.

"I could be very happy working under Tyce. Gorgeous long legs." Tarrant complacently regarded his own, encased in dark red suede and glossy boots. His height could be an advantage with a tall woman like Tyce. He was sure he'd seen a spark of interest.

"Ye-es. One could draw conclusions from your previous choices." Avon sat down and set Orac in front of him.

Tarrant twisted round in his seat. "Like what?"

"Being dominated, perhaps. Or possibly a death wish. An ex-president, a warlord's daughter, and now a president's daughter." He smiled suddenly. "Good luck. This one may be rather more difficult."

Tarrant pouted. "You don't think my natural charm will suffice?"

"You can always try." Avon inserted Orac's key. "Orac, I require you do to some research on mutoids. I want to know about the modification process and how to reverse it if possible, and whether this is already being done."

"Mutoids?" Tarrant wrinkled his forehead. "What's that about?"

"Something Soolin and Vila want to know."

"Vila?" Tarrant's eyebrows shot up. "You're taking orders from Vila?"

"Not at all," Avon said blandly. "He just asked a question which happened to intrigue me. In fact, you might be able to tell me a little more. You must have worked with them."

Tarrant pursed his lips. "Very good officers and troops, mutoids. You can count on them." He flashed a grin. "They're rather like what Vila used to accuse you of: being more machine than human."

"Is there anything left of their original personality, do you think?"

"Not that I could tell. Really, they were excellent soldiers, very logical and unemotional, extremely fast and strong."

"Could they think for themselves?"

"Of course. They'd analyse a situation and work out the best way to act. Using their training and of course ensuring that whatever they did met Space Fleet regulations." Tarrant paused. "Unless of course they were under orders."

"So they'd obey without question."

"Oh, I wouldn't say without question. They'd do whatever they were told, but they'd raise objections if the order was illogical or just plain stupid."

"But do it anyway?"

"Yes." Tarrant shrugged. "They're the perfect officer."

Avon shook his head. "That alone is a very good description of the military mindset."

Tarrant grinned engagingly. "And one of the many reasons I left."

"You may have hitherto hidden qualities."

"Oh, I've never believed in hiding my light under a bushel." Really, Avon almost seemed his old self these days, since he'd patched it up with Vila.

"What about the ones that aren't officers?"

"Ah. Generally the less intelligent ones, or soldiers being punished. Deserters. Or..." Tarrant looked uneasy, "people being silenced. One heard rumours."

"Somehow that does not surprise me."

"They're usually in a detachment under a mutoid officer. They can be deployed at a distance with a few command words through the comms in their helmets."

"Like pieces on a chessboard?" Avon shook his head in disgust. "At least Soolin's sister is an officer. That's something."

 

**A result and a reason**

****Avon found them at the pool. Vila was actually in it, larking about in the shallow end, and Soolin was much more sensibly reading in a deckchair. "Ah. I now see what a sybaritic life you lead here."

Vila's face lit up. "Hello, Avon! Come on in!"

And be splashed, dunked, and otherwise tortured as he had been at school? Avon just gave him a look and sat down beside Soolin in the shade.

She put her book pad aside, looking concerned. "Have you found out anything?"

"Wait for me!" Vila waded over to the side and climbed out, dripping onto the hot tiles. "Ow! Ouch!" He danced over to Avon and, mercifully and somewhat surprisingly, dragged over another chair instead of flicking excess water onto Avon. "All right then, tell us!"

"Is it good news?" Soolin asked, looking wary.

"It's promising news. Vila was right; the Federation does run a facility for reversing modifications, but it's quite difficult to get data on."

Vila pulled a face. "Secret, is it?"

"Yes, like a lot to do with mutoids, doubtless to prevent others getting the technology. Nothing is kept on the Central Computer system, but Orac was able to infer a lot indirectly."

"I'm impressed! How did you get the little rat to do that?"

Avon grinned briefly. "By challenging it. I rather think it enjoyed it."

"Careful. You'll slip and say 'he' next."

"So where is this place?" Soolin said impatiently. "If Orac can't find out what we need, can we go there in person?"

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that!"

Soolin gave Vila a quick and almost amused glance. "But you'll go anyway, won't you." She turned back to Avon. "Where is it?"

"Cassiona."

"Oh, wonderful," Vila said mournfully. "Guarded like the Federation gold reserves, that place is."

"And of course you could get into either, according to your usual boasts," Avon said dryly.

"Well, of course! But do I want to?" Vila saw the look on Soolin's face. "Look, you know me, got to object just in case it works, don't I?"

Soolin smiled faintly. "Oh yes. And has it ever?"

"Always a first time! Anyway," said Vila with audible relief, "we can't for a while. Tyce is stuck here with some delegation or other."

"I have a ship," Avon said casually.

Vila regarded him with a mixture of hope and worry. "And you'd lend it to us?"

"No. I would come with you."

Vila blinked. "Would you? Why?"

"Because despite the presence of the excellent Soolin, I do not trust you not to get into trouble."

"I didn't know you cared."

"About retaining your skills as a thief, yes."

Vila grinned.

 

But that was only a small part of it. Vila's question about what Avon would do if it was his brother had struck home. The answer was 'anything'.

Although Avon had never told anyone about him, Bryn was why Avon had followed Blake, and later led his own crew against the Federation. Happy, laughing Bryn, loved by all—especially little brother Avon—who had left home and gone off to a colony world, married a strapping local lass, and gradually grown away from them in his new life. Avon could have borne that, but Bryn's whole settlement was wiped out with the others that had rebelled.

For Bryn had gone to Zircaster.

* * *

  
Vila was hunched over his computer, running through the simulation of the Cassiona facility and taking notes while Avon and Soolin went over what Orac had found out about the modification reversal project.

The outside of the buildings were complete, assembled from orbital scans and security cameras: the usual rectangular grey concrete blocks bristling with detectors and antennae and with about as many windows as an average prison. Contemporary oppressive, Vila called the architectural style. The layout of the interior of the building they had to infiltrate, however, had annoying gaps.

"You'd think," he complained, "that they'd have a building plan somewhere."

Avon looked up. "They undoubtedly do, but Orac failed to find any."

"I thought he could get into any computer."

"With tarial cells, yes."

"Which is pretty much everything in the Federation."

"Yes, but all sensitive data happens to be encrypted."

"How'd he get this much, then?"

"From security cameras in the building which show corridors and room and the occasional sign on the walls."

"I'm impressed. How did you get the little rat to do all that? I bet he complained it was beneath him."

Avon smiled briefly. "I expressed my doubt that it was within his abilities."

Vila laughed. "Just like at Freedom City! Pity he didn't find out more though. The floor we have to get to is mostly blank."

"Regard it as a challenge."

Vila gave Avon a hurt look. "I'm not as easy to manipulate, you know."

"I would have thought that a master thief of your calibre should have no trouble."

"Not with the locks, no. Standard number pad or physio-psycho; Orac's got security footage of those. Getting through those won't be a problem. Getting lost might be," Vila added darkly.

He sighed and looked at his growing list of equipment. There were items on it that he really hoped he wouldn't have to use.

 

"Don't worry," said Avon, turning back to Soolin and seeing the look on her face. "He's managed perfectly well before on a lot less information. In some cases, none." He lowered his voice. "Vila is a professional. A very good one."

"So am I," Soolin said. "And I'll be with him." She looked down at her notes.

1\. Op to remove serum intake

2\. Flush out circ system w special fluid

3\. Gradually add blood, feed intrav. till can eat

4\. Memory recovery ???

She tapped her stylus on her pad screen. "It looks simple enough listed like that, and I know Orac found recordings and notes of some of the procedures, but don't we need a specialist?"

Avon shook his head. "Just a good doctor. Eldine on Camelot base could handle it. The real problem is the fluid they use to reverse the metabolic changes. That's what you and Vila have to do: get the formula or a sample." He frowned. "And of course you must realise the recovery of memory isn't an exact science."

He looked as if he was going to say more, and Soolin got in first, her voice hard. "You mean, after all that, we could still be left with someone who can't remember who she was and hasn't even got all the physical advantages of being a mutoid."

"Briefly, yes."

Soolin met his eyes defiantly. "It's still worth it."

 

**The luck of plumbers**

****Cassiona showed blue, green, brown, and white on the _Lactic Class_'s view screen, like a marble, as Vila had said. "Right," said Avon, "has everyone got it straight?"

"Yes." Tarrant stretched in his seat and out his hands behind his head. "Fast approach, you teleport Vila and Soolin, I take us out fast to the edge of the system and we orbit a moon with the drive off. We run silent till we're called for teleport, then we repeat the process." He sounded almost bored, but Avon noted that one of his feet was tapping.

"Correct. Vila and Soolin, we're putting you down just behind the maintenance stores building." He looked at them both, ready in the teleport bay, dressed in the dull brown overalls and peaked caps worn by the Cassiona facility's maintenance service.

Vila had said that no one ever really noticed workers, especially if they looked as if they were involved in a dirty job like plumbing; they just wanted them to do their work and disappear. He'd grinned and said it had never failed for him, and Avon, who had had exactly that attitude about maintenance and service grades, had felt somewhat chagrined.

Vila, Avon now noted, had an artfully applied smudge on his face, and his and Soolin's overalls were stained. He nodded at Vila's large tool kit. "It will be your bad luck if they ask you to do some plumbing."

"No." Vila shook his head. "It'll be theirs!"

 

They materialised in a wind-swept area near what seemed to be fuel and chemical storage. Vila looked around quickly; there was no one in view. He relaxed.

"Come on." Soolin pointed. "This way."

Vila followed, slightly bent to the left to balance the weight of his tool kit.

"What've you got in that anyway?"

"Contingency planning. I like to play it safe." Vila looked up at the mutoid treatment building, its concrete walls dark, weather-stained, and only occasionally punctuated with windows. "Not that going in there is playing it particularly safe, what with it being shielded," he said mournfully. "We'll have to make it out again to be teleported."

"Right. Straight up to the tenth floor, grab what we need, and back here," Soolin said crisply.

"You make it sound so simple." Vila glanced at her. "A bit more slouch, and look bored and fed up at yet another thrilling day in the life of a maintenance worker."

Soolin flashed him a smile and slumped, her eyes down. "Lead on, Macduff," she said obscurely.

 

It really did seem as if it was going to be straightforward. No one even gave them a glance as they went through the foyer and over to the lifts.

"See?" said Vila, pushing the button for the tenth floor. "We completely faded into the background."

"Not to me, we wouldn't," Soolin said. "You learn as a bodyguard to regard everyone with suspicion." She gave Vila a sidelong look. "Especially people dressed as workers. It's a ploy that's all too common, actually."

"Lucky this lot haven't learned, then." Vila looked around as they emerged on the tenth floor. "Distinct lack of signs pointing to the medical unit."

"I suppose everyone who needs to, knows where it is."

"Oh, well. I suppose we could open each door we come to. Or follow our noses. I mean, those places have that horrible antiseptic-medicine-sickness smell."

Soolin glanced quickly into a room through the glass panel in the door. "Not that one. Let's just keep moving till we find something that looks likely."

"That might be it," said Vila after a short while, nodding at the small sign on a glass door panel reading _Clinic_.

"Well spotted," Soolin said dryly.

The door was locked, but that only slowed Vila down by a few seconds. "Ugh." He wrinkled his nose. "Right, wasn't I? Antiseptic and chemicals."

"Everything is chemicals, Vila. Or elements."

"You know what I mean." Vila looked around. The room contained three plain, empty, white beds, each with a drip stand beside it. He swallowed and tried to stay calm. "Okay, they do it here, but they don't keep the stuff in here. Um, what's through there?" he asked, nodding at a glass-panelled door, trying to sound unconcerned, but staying right where he was.

"Another door, then from what I can see, the operating theatre."

"Oh. Right." Vila wondered if he ought to sit down, but the only choices were the white beds.

"Vila? Are you all right?"

"It's just that... the smell and all that. Reminds me of when they tried to readjust me. The first time—" Vila turned his back on the beds and their drip stands. "—I was twelve." He remembered the lights above him, the restraints, the hand and the mask coming at him, the sweet, cloying smell, and the helpless dizzying fall into darkness.

Soolin came back to him and took his hand, squeezing it. "Stay here. I'll go in there and look. I could see a store room door, and I know what the serum flush looks like. I won't be long."

Vila gave her hand a brief squeeze back. "Sorry."

"It's all right. You can keep watch."

Vila watched her leave, then, to occupy his mind, put his toolbox on one of the beds and opened it, exposing the top tray which held four foam-lined cylinders to take the bottles of serum flush, and his larger lock-picking tools (the smaller ones being nice and handy in his pockets) in their compartments. Everything was ready. That is, if Soolin found the stuff. He rubbed his hands with impatience, then jumped guiltily as the door opened.

There was a small grey man standing there, holding a swipe card and one of those data pads with the extra-large screens that bureaucrats liked to carry around to prove how busy and important they were. "Why is this unlocked?" he asked petulantly. "And who are you?"

Vila tugged at the peak of his cap. "Blocked sump, mate. Came to fix it."

The man's prim little mouth thinned. "Firstly, if there was a problem, I would know it. Secondly, how did you get in here by yourself? And thirdly—"

"Thirdly—" Soolin said from the operating room door, "—_surprise_!" She fired.

Vila stared down at the crumpled body in horror.

"Don't worry. I used stun in deference to your sensitive nature."

He let out his breath with relief. "But now we won't know what 'thirdly' was."

"Probably nothing good. Come on, help me get him in here." Soolin put her hands under the prissy little man's arms.

No longer bothered by the smells and his memories now he had something to do, Vila grabbed the man's feet and followed Soolin as she backed into the next room. It contained hand basins and a row of white coats on hooks on the wall to the right under which they dropped him.

"How long's he out for?"

"About 30 minutes." Soolin pushed open the door to the operating room, and reappeared holding out two bottles of clear, faintly pink liquid. "Here, take these while I get some more."

As Vila was settling them into the toolbox, Soolin came back with two more, and a bundle of bright green serum tubes. "Here, put these in too. Just in case Ilka needs them after we capture her."

"Right." Same colour as adrenaline and soma. Maybe there was some in it, though Vila had no desire to try the stuff. Who knows what else was in it?

"Oh and this too." Soolin picked the data pad up from the floor. "You never know, it might have something useful on it."

"Right." Vila packed everything in and secured the lid. "And now we get ourselves down and out to the tank farm. Fast."

 

**The usefulness of contingency planning**

****They were only halfway to the lift when the door opened and two people came out: another man in grey, and a woman in a white coat. They did not even glance at Soolin and Vila as they passed, but Vila turned around to watch them. "Oh, no! They're going into the room! They'll find old accountant-features."

"Just keep going."

"Not to the lifts." Vila swerved and pushed the stairwell door open. "If they give the alarm, security freezes them, and I don't know about you, but I've got no intention of climbing up a lift well."

Soolin shuddered. "Neither have I."

They were two flights down when the alarm went off, and she ran into Vila, who had stopped.

"Up again!" he said. "They'll be blocking off the stairs at the bottom, and anyway, they won't expect that. Lucky there are only 12 floors."

"I hope," Soolin said with a sinking feeling, "that you know what you're doing."

"Yep," Vila panted behind her. "I have a plan. It's one of my contingency ones." Then, a flight later, he said, "Hey! D'you think those two were Thirdly?"

"No idea. And I suggest you save your breath."

 

The stairs ended in a grey metal door.

"Now what?"

"Out and onto the roof." Vila worked briefly on the lock, then pushed the door open.

Soolin balked. "I _really_ hope you know what you're doing."

"It's not like we have any choice!"

She edged out and pressed her back against the wall that surrounded the stairwell exit. Vila was fiddling with the lock again. "What're you doing?" Soolin said impatiently. "Why don't you get out of the way and let me melt it?" It was, after all, something distracting to do. She drew her gun and thumbed it to the highest setting.

"No." Vila pushed the barrel to one side. "I'm just resetting the number pad. If they do come up here, they'll get an invalid code message and waste time arguing with security." Vila grinned at Soolin with an 'aren't I clever?' look.

"Just hurry up, then." Soolin put her gun back in its holster with slightly shaky fingers.

"Finished." Vila sounded rather sulky.

"I'll compliment you when we're well away from there." Soolin looked across the bleak, grey, windswept expanse of roof, broken up only by antennae and other metal protuberances of unknown function. There wasn't even a parapet at the edge. Feeling exposed. she pressed harder against the wall behind her. "I suppose you're going to turn off the shield," she said trying to keep her voice level. "Get on with it."

"You can't from up here. That's all security control, and that's underground."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"This." Vila knelt down and opened his toolbox. He cantilevered the top trays out and fished out two coils of rope and a cylinder of some mottled grey material. He then took one coil and went over to the roof's edge, crawling the last few feet. He lay down and looked over, making Soolin feel ill, and lowered the rope down.

"What? You're climbing down the _side_?" She imagined Vila on a rope like a mountain climber, lowering himself down the outside of the building, and herself lashed to him. She felt dizzy.

"Nah. Someone'd see us, and besides, it's far too hot for us down there now." Vila got up and walked over to the base of an antenna, paying the rope out as he went. "This is just a red herring." He made the rope fast, then picked up the other one.

"So what are we doing?"

Tying the rope into a harness around himself, Vila nodded towards the next building. "We'll go over there where it's not shielded and call the ship." There was a square metal girder running between the buildings and across both roofs, and he patted it as if it were a friendly animal.

"On _that_?" Soolin asked incredulously.

"Yeah. It's hollow. They run electric and comms cables though it. Probably powers the shielding."

"In that case, why don't you just burn into it with your tools and cut the cables?"

"And tell them where we are?" He looked up and saw Soolin's face. "Look, I know it's a bit scary, but it's quite safe really, what with all the equipment I brought. Fast too. Besides, there aren't many windows and hardly anyone ever looks up; you'd be surprised."

_Surprised_, thought Soolin, _is not the word I'd choose_. She folded her arms tightly. "No."

"But, Soolin—"

"Look, I grew up on a flat farm in a house all on one level. When we used to go into town and have lunch on the top floor of the department store, I couldn't look out the windows, and it was only six floors up. I felt sick."

"But you've been in flyers and spaceships!"

"I can't fall out of those."

"And on walkways!"

"They have railings! Give me railings on both sides and I'll run across! As it is, I'm not moving."

"But we have to!"

"No, we don't. I'll stay here and take my chances."

Vila's face went pale and set. "Then I will too."

That startled Soolin out of her rising panic. "You can't! They don't know who I am, but they do know you."

"I'm not leaving you."

"But... I know how scared you are, Vila, and what they did to you."

"There're levels of fear. Some of 'em out-trump the others. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't stay."

_And you mightn't live with anyone if you do_. "All right. I'll come with you. But I'll have to close my eyes."

Vila's face relaxed into relief. "That's all right. I'll set up the mat."

At least he was a good distance from the edge; Soolin approached, curiosity warring with fear. "Mat?"

"Yep, friction mat." Vila unrolled the cylinder, then unfolded the mat to three times its width. The exposed surface looked faintly fuzzy, and there were eyeleted holes round the edge.

"What's that?"

"Indispensable burglar's tool! Well, at times like this, anyway. It's almost friction-free on the underside, and not at all on the top. Wonderful for sliding down things, or along ventilation ducts, stuff like that. It's got a molecular lock," Vila said vaguely, "some sort of current running through it when it's set. So I mould it around three sides and a little bit more, like this, then push the button." Vila did so, and a strange ripple ran through the material. "See, it's solid now—" he rapped it "and it can't slip off because of the corners. Lucky this thing isn't round." He grinned, and Soolin winced at the thought. "And it slides really well. We'll be over in no time, zip-zip, like a monorail. Dead easy!"

"You could have left out one of those adjectives."

"Sorry." Vila grinned shamefacedly. "All right, now I'm going to tie this rope into a harness around you, like mine. It's strong stuff." His tongue came out while he worked, and normally Soolin would have been amused. "All right, get on."

Soolin hesitated, then swung a leg over and sat down so that she was facing forwards. _So far, so good_.

"If you grip well with your legs, you won't even move. Feel how well you stick to the mat?"

Soolin said nothing, thinking about what would happen if she let go. This high up, gravity would exert a seductive pull; how easy it would be to just give in. "I'll fall."

"No, you won't. And if you did, you'd just swing underneath."

"Vila!" That came out almost as a whimper.

"But you won't. Okay, I'll lash the toolbox behind you. Good protection anyway, just in case."

Just in case someone shot at them, Soolin supposed, which would be something she could deal with. And she wished she was.

Vila climbed on in front of her. "Just tying you to me, and me to the mat.... and done. It'll be all right. Really." he said reassuringly. "Just hang on to me."

Soolin put her arms around his waist and leaned forward against him, and shut her eyes tight.

"Ready?"

"No." She took a deep breath. "But go anyway."

"All right. If it helps, just imagine the roof's under you like it is now, but all the way."

She could feel his shoulder and back muscles moving as he pulled them forward, but there was no sense of movement. Were they over the void yet? She tightened her grip and buried her face in his neck, feeling his warmth and solidity and soft hair on her face, and breathed in the smell of him. She tried to block out the mental image of them hanging there, twelve, no, thirteen floors up, and filled her mind with him instead.

"All right?"

"Mmmph."

"See? Smooth as silk! I always imagine I'm on a ride at a playground, that sort of thing."

"I never went to a playground," Soolin said faintly into his neck.

"We'll have to fix that! Think of what you've missed!"

He went still, and Soolin tightened her grip. "What? _What's wrong?_"

"Nothing. We're there."

"What?"

"Open your eyes."

Soolin did so cautiously, peering over Vila's shoulder. It was true. In front was the roof of the other building, with a cluster of small concrete structures in the centre, into one of which the conduit disappeared. With an effort, she relaxed her holds on Vila and the friction mat.

"See? It was a piece of cake." Vila got off and started undoing his ropes.

Soolin clambered off and, finding her legs a little shaky. Leaning against the conduit, she laughed, feeling almost drunk with relief. "It's lucky you're not scared of heights."

"Who said I wasn't?" Vila began to undo her harness.

"You are?"

"Like I said, some fears are bigger than others." Vila released the toolbox and put it down.

"Oh, Vila." Soolin suddenly wrapped her arms around him, making him sway with the intensity.

"Told you it'd be all right, didn't I?"

Soolin shivered. "And that mat would have held me if I'd fallen?"

"Um..."

"Vila!"

"Anyway, it wouldn't have had to. You were tied to me. Look, you can depend on me." Vila grinned.

"Oh, Vila. That's _awful_." Soolin released him. "We'd better get out of sight."

"Just a moment." Vila lifted his bracelet and thumbed the comms button. "_Lactic_? We're ready."

After a brief pause, Tarrant's voice came through. "Right. Coming in."

Vila grinned at Soolin with relief as he detached the mat. "I'll just pack this stuff away, then there's one little thing for you to do."

"Me?"

"Yep." Vila snapped his toolbox closed. "I need a sharpshooter. Just come over here a bit."

"Vila. No."

"Not far." Vila took her hand. "Just till you can see where the rope I left over there ends."

Soolin edged along, keeping a hand on the conduit. "Ah. I see. At a window. You want me to shoot a hole."

"That's right," Vila said from just behind her. "Then if they do come up to the roof, they'll think we're still in the building and waste more time." His arms came around her waist, enclosing her, as if he understood that it would make her feel safer.

Soolin raised her gun, and hesitated, wanting it to be right first time to make up for her fear. She fired.

"Perfect! And now we hide till they get here."

 

"We're safe here," said Vila. They were in a small area enclosed on three sides by concrete walls. "I saw it on the plans and thought it might work." He sat down and put the toolbox on his lap, keeping its handle clutched firmly in one hand in case they were teleported. "No one'll be able to see us here."

Soolin sat beside him, knees drawn up, and looked out over the rolling grassland beyond the facility, then up at the cloudy sky. "Unless they're in a flyer."

"They won't think of that for a while."

"Are you sure?"

"No." Vila gave her a crooked smile, then fished in his pocket. He held out a flat metal flask. "Some medicinal brandy, perhaps?"

Soolin took a grateful swig, and coughed as she felt the warmth. "Oh, that's good. Thanks. And how is it different from ordinary brandy?"

"The circumstances it's drunk in, of course!"

Soolin laughed, then shivered again. She took another drink, savouring the warmth it gave. "Do you want some too?"

"Just a bit." Vila tipped the flask back. "Mmmm. Smooth. Got good taste in booze, Avon has. Here, you'd better have the rest." He handed it back and put his free arm around her, and she leaned into him.

* * *

  
Avon raised his eyebrows as they materialised in the teleport bay, sitting with their arms around each other, Vila with his toolbox, and Soolin clutching a drink flask. Avon suspected that it contained one of his better brandies or whiskies. "Picnic?" he said, turning it into two separate, clipped words.

"We were on a roof," Soolin said, as if that explained it, and got up.

"Take us out, Tarrant," said Avon. "Well? Did you get the serum flush?"

"Of course!" said Vila. "And some spare serum tubes. Not to mention a data pad. Well, to be fair, that was Soolin." He gave Avon a cocky grin. "Could you doubt us?"

"Easily." Vila looked fairly normal—for him—but Soolin seemed rather pale. "So it went smoothly?"

Vila grinned as if Avon had made a joke. "Very."

Avon supposed he was talking about the contents of the flask, which he suspected had originally belonged to him. "Good. Let's hope the next stage goes as well."

"It had better," said Soolin.

 

**Federation Officer Mu-4172**

****In fact the extraction, as Tarrant called it—which Vila thought revoltingly dental—went extremely well. Orac was able not only to locate the military unit in which the mutoid Mu-4172 was currently serving, but also to pinpoint her location by intercepting the mutoid comms. Soolin and Vila teleported down during a woodland exercise, Soolin fired a stun charge at her sister, and when she made no move to go to her, Vila ran over and snapped a teleport bracelet onto her wrist.

And now she was strapped into a chair on the _Lactic Class_ flight deck, with her hands cuffed to the armrests, with everyone looking at her. She was unnervingly like Soolin, despite the mutoid's shiny black helmet moulded to her head.

Soolin reached out to touch it. "Can we take it off?"

"No." Avon spoke sharply. "It is designed to be permanent and will have to be cut off. The head coverings were originally to hide the baldness, then communications were added."

"Baldness?" Soolin pulled her hand back, repelled.

"A side-effect of the chemical changes."

"Will it grow back? After the modification is reversed?"

Avon frowned at Soolin, wondering why it mattered. "I don't see why not. However we will have to leave the removal to Dr Eldine. The comms are connected directly to the ear, and that will need surgery."

The mutoid stirred and opened her eyes, looking about her. "I seem to be on a ship." She focussed on the four people in front of her. "And as you are not wearing uniforms, I would say that you have kidnapped a Federation officer." He chin came up. "Under such circumstances, I may only give my rank and serial number. Space Lieutenant Mu-4172."

Soolin stood, pale and tense, in front of her. "What about your _name_? It's Ilka." She leaned forward to see if there was a reaction. "Ilka Soolin."

"Is it? Perhaps it is. Does that matter?"

"Of course it does! And I'm—" Soolin hesitated. "—Lisa," she said softly. "Your sister Lisa."

Mu-4172 looked at her. "There is a resemblance. Your statement is probably correct. I do not see why my former identity should be relevant however, either to me or to you. I do not remember it, nor do I wish to."

"So," said Vila with interest, "if you don't use your name, what do people call you?"

"The last three digits of my serial number suffice. It is statistically unlikely that I would encounter another 172."

"I can see you'd get on well with Avon."

"That isn't funny, Vila!" Soolin snapped.

"Sorry. I was only trying to relieve the tension."

"That ploy only works for people with a sense of humour," said Avon.

Soolin turned on him. "And what's that supposed to mean? Are you talking about me?"

"Obviously not, seeing that you're with Vila. I was referring to your sister, of course."

"My sister had a very good sense of humour, actually. That isn't her. _Yet_." Soolin turned away. "She didn't even like maths," she said in a muffled voice.

Avon regarded the mutoid with interest. "Are you not in the least curious about your past?"

"No. I request that you return me to my unit."

"You would prefer to remain a mutoid?"

"Of course. I am an efficient officer and of value to the Federation."

"Let me try," said Tarrant suddenly. He went to stand in front of 172. "I was a Federation officer too. A space captain."

"Then you are a deserter."

"Yes, but it was because the Federation didn't deserve my loyalty. Space Fleet is full of good soldiers, good people like you, but they're used to oppress whole populations and to massacre unarmed civilians. The government mind-wipe their own citizens and drug others so they can't even do their jobs. They even program loyal soldiers who volunteered for missions, just to make sure they don't think for themselves," said Tarrant with considerable bitterness. "Is that efficient? Is that honourable? Wouldn't you rather serve people who don't lie and murder and turn others into slaves?"

172 looked at him as expressionlessly as ever. "I would require more data."

"Then I'll give it to you." Tarrant sat down beside her. "What?" he said into the stunned silence. "I'm not just a pretty face, you know." He flashed the others a grin. "Although admittedly it's a large part of my charm."

* * *

  
"Hmmm." Dr Eldine, looking as severe as ever, walked around 172 who was standing at attention in her office. "An interesting challenge, and I realise that the knowledge gained from it would be of considerable value. There were also valuable notes on the procedure on that data pad, which will help. However—" she put her hands in the pockets of her white coat and pursed her lips, "—this mutoid is sentient and therefore must give her consent."

Soolin's eyes widened in outrage. "Surely you're not serious!"

Eldine looked chillier than usual. "I am always serious. This person may not be your sister, but she is a person." She turned to 172. "Well? Do you agree to this treatment?"

"Many people choose modification," 172 said. "However the records show that Ilka Soolin did not, and therefore I think that it would be—" she paused very briefly, as if the word were an unfamiliar one, "—just if the process were reversed."

Eldine raised her eyebrows. "All right. You do realise that you will lose much of your present strength and speed."

"Yes. However using food and water as fuel instead of serum will give me much more freedom of action and independence. Besides, I was created to serve, and I think that I will be better able to do so in my new unit as Ilka Soolin."

"Not serve," Soolin muttered.

172 stared straight ahead, as if she had not heard.

"Good," said Eldine, and came close to smiling. "Then we shall begin."

 

**Transition**

****172 sat up in bed and looked at the cream walls and the window which showed trees outside, moving in the wind. She felt different. It was not just her body, but that was strange enough. Her head felt light and exposed without the mutoid helmet, she felt weakened, and most of all, there was her body's reaction to its new fuel.

She had been fed intravenously for the first few days, but that had been enough to activate her digestive system, and that was... unpleasant. She almost regretted no longer being able to use serum, which had always burned so cleanly that there was nothing left, but logic told her that being no longer dependent on it was an advantage. She would not rapidly weaken and die without it. There had been the option of using blood of course, but it had never been more than an inefficient emergency fuel, one that 172 was glad that she had never resorted to.

Even more disturbing were the changes in her mind. It felt as though invisible supports had been taken away. She felt... it took a long time for the word to surface in her brain. Uncertain.

172 looked down at the bowl in front of her. Clear soup, easy to digest, the nurse had said. She hesitantly filled a spoon and took a sip. She jerked at the intensity of the flavour, almost knocking the soup over on the tray. She hesitated, revulsion warring with pleasure, then tried it again.

Perhaps food had properties that outweighed its side effects.

 

Eldine hadn't allowed Soolin to visit 172 until the reversal of the modification was complete, and 172 was beginning to take food and no longer had to be on a drip.

She stood in the doorway, almost shy. "Hello, Ilka."

172 was sitting in a chair by the window, her completely bald head outlined by the light behind her. She simply looked at Soolin, as if expecting something more.

Of course: mutoids wouldn't understand pleasantries. "How are you feeling?"

"Different. I am weaker, but my mind has new thoughts in it."

"Well, that's a good thing." Soolin smiled encouragingly and sat down in the chair opposite. "You'll always be stronger than most humans, if that's any consolation."

"Yes."

"You'll seen be out of here."

"So I am told. When my body has readapted to the changes."

Soolin leaned forward slightly, trying to see some trace of Ilka in that calm face, so like her own. 172 was wearing plain blue trousers and tunic, the sort Soolin remembered was issued to patients here, and sat abnormally still, her hands lying relaxed in her lap. Was that what mutoids were like when they had no orders? Or was she thinking? "Do you remember before you were taken? Do you remember me? Our parents, our farm?"

"No."

Not even an 'I am sorry', and after all, why should she be? She was as cool and logical as people had often accused Soolin of being. "The burning?" Soolin asked softly. She wouldn't mention what happened to their parents, not yet. "They burned our farm. You must remember that." Soolin had never forgotten, never been able to forget the bright flames, the dark smoke rising into a blue sky, and the bodies that burned there. "We had a fight," she said, forcing herself to speak, "after Mum made me clear the table when it was really your turn, and you laughed at me and I was so angry... I was so angry, I ran outside and hid to make everyone sorry." She bit her lip and waited until she could speak without her voice shaking. "I saw them take you away."

172 said nothing.

"Don't you remember any of that?"

"No."

Soolin got up and left so that 172 wouldn't see that she was crying.

 

"She doesn't remember anything," she said to Vila in the canteen. "Not even the house burning."

"Well, would she want to?"

"What d'you mean?"

"If I had a choice, I'd rather not remember quite a few things."

"But what about the good parts, the fun?"

"They're still connected to what came after, aren't they? I mean, I have lots of good memories of Gan and Cally, but they always make me think of how they died. Same with my mum."

"I know." Soolin sighed and put her chin in her hands. "So there's no hope? Maybe we have to get that Carnell back."

"Could be an idea. It might interest him. I don't think he does things that don't." Vila shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "Funny, isn't it, that coffee never tastes quite as good as it smells? I read somewhere that coffee or baking bread are the nicest smells to come home to. Or onion. I once put an onion in the oven on the _Liberator_ to make Avon think there was a tasty meal cooking, and—" He stopped suddenly, his cup halfway down to the table. "Smells!"

"Yes. You already said so."

"No, I mean smells take you back, even when you don't want to go. Like me in that clinic on Cassiona. They trigger memories. Like warm buttered toast. Takes me right back to when I was a nipper, that does."

Soolin stared at him, and jumped up.

"Where're you going?"

"The kitchen. To see if they'll let me cook something."

 

"What's that, then?" Vila asked, walking beside Soolin and looking at the steaming dish with interest.

"Kasha."

"You made it?"

"Of course. It was something my mother cooked fairly often, and we used to help, Ilka and I. So I can remember how to make it. You cook the onions slowly and gently till they're golden-brown and taste like caramel," she said in a dreamy voice.

"Oniony porridge! What else is in it?"

"Wheat kasha, flavouring, stock. Mum often put mushrooms in, but as a special treat she'd use sultanas."

Vila looked blank.

"White raisins?" Soolin tried again. "Dried grapes?"

"Ah. Nasty thing to do to a good grape."

"You haven't tasted one! The flavour's really concentrated. We didn't have them that often as they only grew them up north where it's warmer, but they were for special occasions. They go all juicy and sweet in the kasha." Soolin whipped the plate away from Vila as he reached for it. "That's for Ilka." She relented at the look on Vila's face. "I made enough for us both later, but this is for her."

"Oh, all right. I'd better leave you to it, then."

"You can come too. She's going to have to get to know you too."

"Well, of course!" Vila grinned. "After all, we go together."

 

Vila waited in the doorway, not wanting to intrude.

"This is for you, Ilka." Soolin held out the bowl.

172 looked at it, leaned forward, and sniffed. Her eyes widened, and she put her head on one side, a peculiar expression on her face, like someone solving a problem. "Ka-sha?" she said hesitantly.

"Yes!"

She ignored the spoon and put a finger into the dish, bringing it out with a plump, glistening sultana on it. She put it in her mouth, sucking her finger like a child, then closed her eyes as she tasted it. Her eyes opened, and met Soolin's identically blue ones. "L... Lisa," she whispered. "You're Lisa."

"Yes. I'm Lisa." Tears streamed down Soolin's face as she leaned over 172 and embraced her.

Vila saw 172's hands come up slowly and touch Soolin's back wonderingly. He tiptoed out, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

**Ilka**

****"So you can remember everything now?" said Tarrant.

Ilka nodded. "It's odd. It's as if it was always there."

"Well, it was," said Vila. "Like when you have a word on the tip of your tongue and you can't find it, then later on it pops up because all you needed was the key."

"Or in your case, lockpick," said Avon.

Ilka looked at Vila thoughtfully. "Yes, that's right. It was in a locked room." She stared out across the Camelot Base garden which they were sitting in, on wooden benches in the sun. "So now I have two rooms full of memories. It's as if I've been two people."

"You have." Soolin put her hand on Ilka's arm.

"I just... wish I could shut one of the rooms off."

Soolin looked upset. "I know it's hard to remember, but there are all those years of happy childhood before that all happened."

"I didn't mean that. I'm glad I can remember that now. And you." Ilka smiled shyly at Soolin. "As for what happened to our parents, and me, there wasn't anything I could have done about that. It's the things I did when I was Mu-4172 I'd like to forget."

Vila gave her a sidelong, weary glance. "Like what?"

"Like some of the things Tarrant mentioned. Killing people who were not armed. People who had surrendered."

Avon stiffened. "Zircaster?" he asked in a strained voice.

"No. It was a frozen planet. Subterrona."

"Bloody hell!" said Vila. "I was there. Afterwards, luckily. And you missed one," he added.

Soolin looked at him startled, then decided to ignore it. "Did you have a choice?" she asked Ilka. "Could you have refused?"

"No." Ilka frowned, working it out. "I could object to an order only if it was unsound tactically. This wasn't. They were rebels who would only cause more trouble if left alive."

She had slipped into her cool, expressionless 172 voice. Vila shuddered and looked away.

"It isn't how I feel now," she said, being Ilka again. "That's the problem."

"But you didn't have a choice," Soolin said. "It wasn't really you."

"All the same, I wish I could forget."

"No!" said Tarrant forcibly. "Don't even think about it. Memories are connected, and if they took one away, you'd never be sure which other ones went with it."

Ilka turned to look at him. "I remember what you told me about what they did to you. You're right. It's probably better to know everything than to wonder what's missing."

"Well, I think so." Tarrant looked at her, so very different now, so young and vulnerable-looking, as if she was still the teenager she was when modified. The fine, pale gold fuzz of her hair shone in the sun, and he wondered briefly what it would feel like to touch it, then remembered that she was still much stronger than he was, and always would be. "If it's any help, I've learned to live with what I did," he said, "even though it wasn't my fault either."

"Not all of it, anyway," said Avon.

"What d'you mean by that?"

"Your arrogance is all your own."

"Pot calling the kettle black, I'd have thought," said Vila.

"You? Think?" Avon said, amused. "I'm glad you put that in the subjunctive."

 

Ilka sat, listening to them bicker. Before, she would have though they were angry with each other, but she knew now that it hid a sort of affection. That was something 172 would never have understood.

She leaned back on the bench and stretched her legs out, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin, the feel of the breeze gently ruffling her clothes and caressing her uncovered head, and the bright colours of the flowers. 172 would only have analysed the wind direction and strength, the light levels, the clouds for weather patterns, and the trees for cover, so that she could be as efficient a battle unit as possible. Ilka felt briefly angry at what they had taken from her. Experimentally, she fell back into that analytical mode and something fell into place, and she realised that she had been worried that she had lost 172's abilities. Being able to keep the best of having been a mutoid made it almost worthwhile, as Vila would have said.

She leaned forward to look at them all, giving them a smile almost as dazzling as one of Tarrant's. "Thank you" she said.

The end

  



End file.
